


Between The Ice

by Phoenix_is_creative



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Cheerleader Karl jacobs, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Other, POV GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Roommates, Soft Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), figure skater George not found
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_is_creative/pseuds/Phoenix_is_creative
Summary: “Are you okay?” The person asked.George backed away, turning to face him, but when he saw the man that broke his fall his eyes grew wide with shock. He’d seen him before, the captain of the hockey team. His hair was a sort of dirty blond color, his eyes startlingly green.George froze as he tried to remember his name. Why couldn’t he remember his name?———An au where George goes to school in America for figure skating, when he runs into a certain hockey player that he can’t seem to get rid of.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 172
Collections: violently sobs and collapses I LOVE THEM </3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is uncomfortable by being in Fanfiction, I will take it down.
> 
> I don’t like shipping people in real life, so I’m thinking of this a bit more as their characters (but no, I’m not making Dream like his SMP character).

“Get up at five thirty, train until you feel like you’re going to collapse, go to school, and everything else will just fall into place.”

George breathed in the familiar smell of the ice skating rink as he laced up his skates and got ready for the day. He loved getting there when it was just beginning to open up, when the rink was cold and empty and it was just him and the ice. It was a time where he didn’t have to worry about what the afternoon would bring. He was free to be himself, free to do what he loved without any judgement.

“That’s the goal. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he had responded.

George threw his belongings into a locker and then made his way onto the ice. The familiar feeling comforted him like a warm blanket, a sense of security that he could always rely on. He glided across the rink, skating a few laps as he began to warm up. He loved the feel of the ice under his skates, almost like he was flying. 

“You’re only going to hurt yourself. The last thing you need is to get sent home from school because of a hobby.”

He began his normal routine, doing quick warm ups and exercises that he had done for years. This time he made an extra lap around the large rink to help ease his mind. Normally he could step onto the ice and forget everything, but the phone call he had had the afternoon before with his parents had only made him grow more restless.

“It’s not just a hobby. I’ve told you that.”

George remembered the unease on the other line. He could picture his mother shifting from foot to foot, glancing at his father from across the kitchen table. They always called him from the kitchen table, where he knew they held their ‘serious talks.’ He had spent many nights there when he was younger and trying to figure out what he was doing with his life. Now that he knew, he wasn’t sure why they still sat there.

“We know George, but this isn’t reliable. At least, not forever,” his mother had replied with a tone to her voice that resembled pity.

George had been sitting in his bedroom, trying to speak quietly so that his roommate Karl would not overhear the conversation. George knew that it didn’t matter if Karl knew or not considering he was aware of George’s situation, but the thought of Karl hearing his parents physically speak to him about it only made him want to hide under the covers and never come out.

“I know…”

The silence on the other line had been absolutely unbearable, and part of him pleaded for them to hang up. George paced the room, waiting for a response, for something. He could hear rushed voices, muffled, as if his mother had put her hand over the receiver. Were they arguing? They argued a lot about him. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were.

“Have you decided if you’ll be coming home to England for Christmas?”

George froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. He glanced towards the door, as if he expected Karl to be standing there. Instead, he found his paint-chipped door closed, the room too still and quiet. Karl probably was at cheerleading practice anyway, so why was he so worried?

“I-erm- I’m not really sure, mum. It depends on practices and competitions, I suppose.”

George shifted so that his back was pressed against the wall. He could hear his mother say something to his father, who only grunted in response. He hated lying to them. Why would there be any competitions during Christmas? Then again, it made him even more sad that they didn’t seem to care enough to think this through themselves.

“Mum, I’m sorry but I have to go. I love you both,” he said hurriedly, and then hung up before they could further speak.

George shook his head, bringing himself back to the present, back to the ice rink. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, whispering to himself, “Focus. Just focus.”

He ran through the beginning of his routine without music, marking most of his complicated turns and jumps as a quick run through before he actually would begin. He made a sharp turn to skate backwards, making the appropriate arm gestures as he went through the song lyrics in his head.

George hit something hard and went tumbling to the ground, right into the obstacle he had run into. Then a pair of arms wrapped themselves around him, cushioning his fall. The other thing, or he supposed person, made a loud, “Hmph,” sound as they hit the ice, George engulfed in their arms.

“Are you okay?” The person asked.

George backed away, turning to face him, but when he saw the man that broke his fall his eyes grew wide with shock. He’d seen him before, the captain of the hockey team. His hair was a sort of dirty blond color, his eyes startlingly green. George froze as he tried to remember his name. Why couldn’t he remember his name?

George quickly got to his feet before the man could offer him his hand. He steadied himself, brushing his pants off. “Fine,” he replied, his voice coming out rough and bitter. “Watch where you’re going.”

The man looked down at his skates, but he couldn’t seem to hide the slight blush that spread across his cheeks. “Right, sorry.”

George glanced around and noticed that more people had entered the rink and began to skate around. “Wait, it’s only seven thirty or so, why are there other people here? Why are you here?”

He didn’t mean for it to sound rude, but that’s just how it happened. To his surprise, the man chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “The L’Manberg University hockey team is practicing here now. Our season just started and coach Phil doesn’t want us to get off to a slow start.”

Of course hockey season was starting. It was nearly October. He remembered that they used to practice last year at a rink that was closer to campus until it was torn down, so he supposed that that was why they had switched. “Oh… great.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled,” Dream commented, a smile playing across his lips.

George crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his posture, as if it would show a change in their height difference. “Yeah, I’m not actually.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” he replied, and George knew it wasn’t fair, but he wanted to slap that stupid smile off of his face. He wanted to tear into him and demand why they had to take up the only time he ever had to himself. Why on earth did it have to be a flock of the straighest, most homophobic, men? 

“Don’t be,” he grumbled, turning to skate away. “You should probably get to practice.”

Before he could leave, the blond said, “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

George glanced at the taller man over his shoulder. “Yeah, I go to L’Manburg too.”

He thought for a moment, his eyebrows knit tightly together, then he snapped his fingers and pointed at him, that smile displayed across his face once again. “Wait, I know you! You were in my calculus class last year. George, right?”

George was a little stunned that he remembered. Hell, George barely remembered that. Normally he didn’t even pay attention to his classmates, especially in calculus. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m George.”

“I didn’t know that you skate.”

George nearly laughed, because why would he know? He didn’t even remember the guy’s name. “Yeah, I figure skate,” he said, squeezing his arms tightly to his chest.

“Awesome,” he grinned before there was a whistle blown and his coach beckoned him over. “I have to go. It was nice seeing you though. I’m Dream.”

Dream skated away, joining the group of men who slapped his helmet once he put it on. He said something to a dark haired man that was about as tall as him, and they laughed. Dream glanced back at George, green eyes piercing, but George quickly looked away.

“Just don’t pay them any attention and run through it again. Act like they aren’t here like you used to at home,” he said quietly to himself. Then he continued where he left off, making sure to divert his attention away from the mass group of hockey players, especially Dream.


	2. Football and Denny’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George had never really understood football. It was just a game where someone was gonna get hurt. What was the fun in that? But he went to games anyway because even if he didn’t understand, Karl always seemed happier when his friends were there to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I’m glad that you’ve seemed to enjoy it!

“Karl, hey!”

Karl turned in their direction, his blue eyes searching the crowd until they landed on them. He smiled and said something to Niki, one of his friends on the cheerleading team, before he ran over to join the group.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, that familiar smile displayed on his face. 

“Great game,” Quackity commented, jokingly punching his shoulder. “You all looked better than the football players.”

Karl laughed. He had a sort of high pitched laugh, a distinctive one that could be heard from the other side of a room. “No, they did all the work. We just cheered them on.”

“Yeah, but it was so cool,” Bad exclaimed. 

George had been friends with the three of them for a while now. He had been roommates with Karl since day one, and he knew Quackity from a biology class he was forced to take sophomore year. Then Karl dragged along Bad, and everything just sort of fell into place.

“It’s just what we normally do,” Karl shrugged. “But we won! So that’s always good. You saw that last touchdown, right?”

Quackity quickly chimed in, and soon the three of them were discussing the ins and outs of the game. George had never really understood football. It was just a game where someone was gonna get hurt. What was the fun in that? But he went to games anyway because even if he didn’t understand, Karl always seemed happier when his friends were there to watch.

“Everyone’s going to the Denny’s after the game. You guys wanna come?”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Quackity said, Bad chiming in happily soon after. They looked to George hesitantly, as if they already knew the answer and were trying not to be let down. “George? Are you in?”

George shifted his weight. “I don’t know. I’ve still got homework to do and I need to run over some things for tomorrow.”

Karl wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Come on George, just this once! It won’t hurt for you to go out with your friends.”

George thought for a moment, considering his options, but the look Karl was giving him was pitying. How could he say no? So George rolled his eyes and conceded. “Fine.”

“Yeah, George is gonna come,” Bad cheered, which made him laugh. “Come on, it’s gonna take forever if we don’t go now.”

“I’ll race you,” Karl dared.

“We don’t even know where your car is,” George countered.

“Good. That means I get a head start.”

\-----------

The Denny’s was crowded with college students in letterman jackets and cheerleading uniforms. George felt out of place, exposed, but Quackity and Bad didn’t seem to be bothered, so why was he so worried?

“Karl, you should go sit at the table with your friends,” Bad suggested.

As George had suspected, the cheerleader quickly declined. “You all are my friends. Besides, I see them everyday. They can go one day without me.”

George glanced over at the table full of cheerleaders, laughing and smiling with each other. He pictured Karl among the bunch, telling an inside joke that no one else understood except them or recounting the game once again. Sometimes it made George wish that he was a part of a team like that instead of something that was so lonely.

A loud laugh and a splay of curses from the table of football players quickly brought him back to reality. Just like their sport, they were showy and obnoxious, slapping each other on the back and parading around as if they owned the place. It made George want to scream.

“George, stop looking like you want to punch something,” Quackity commented. “If you don’t want to be here then just say it.”

George tried to fix his expression. “I do. I really do,” he replied, which wasn’t necessarily a lie. “Just tired is all.”

If they thought his behavior was strange, they didn’t question it. Quackity glanced over at Karl, who was staring at the football table. George shared a look with Bad and Quackity, who followed Karl’s gaze over to the table. George quickly laid eyes on Karl’s target.

“Twenty three,” George said, startling Karl out of his daze. He looked between the group, as if he had been caught spying. George couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You were looking at twenty three.”

“I was not,” Karl exclaimed, but his voice cracked like it always did in a lie. His cheeks grew incredibly red. “No I don’t guys. You’re stupid, shut up.”

“Leave him alone, guys,” Bad said, but a grin played across his face too. “Let him have his crush in private.”

“I do not have a crush!” 

“Two lies in one sitting. That has to be a new record,” George joked, nuding Karl’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Quackity turned around and shouted across the room, “Hey Sapnap! Come here!”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Karl hissed, sinking into his seat, but Quackity had already gotten the man’s attention.

He approached their table, still clad in his football jersey, his hair sticking up every which way. He had this smirk that made him seem like he was always up to something, but to George’s surprise, it didn’t make him seem cocky like it did on so many others.

“What’s up Quackity. Haven’t seen you in awhile,” Sapnap said, giving Quackity that universal guys handshake.

“Yeah, I know,” Quackity agreed. “This year’s been tough.”

“You can say that again,” Sapnap laughed. “So what did you need me for?”

“Oh, my friend Karl here just wanted to congratulate you on your all’s win. He thought that touchdown that you made was pretty impressive.”

Sapnap shifted his gaze over to Karl, who looked like he wanted to die. He smirked again, and maybe it was a bit more cocky than it had been the last. “Yeah?” He asked.

“Uh huh. It was great,” Karl managed to choke out, which made the football player genuinely smile. Looking at him now, George could see why Karl liked him.

“Thanks. You didn’t do so bad yourself. Then again, you all never really do.” A guy on the team called his name. Sapnap sighed and pointed a thumb back in the table’s direction. “I gotta go, but it was nice seeing you all again.”

When he was out of earshot Quackity burst into laughter. Karl groaned and buried his head in his arms, grumbling, “I hate you. I hate you so much. You are awful. You are dog water. I hate you.”

“Hey, if you all ever get married you gotta give me credit,” Quackity said in between breaths.

“Not funny,” Karl whined, which only made the whole table laugh. “I’m gonna get you back. I swear to God I will.”

“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that.”


	3. Spiraling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Every time I’ve come into practice for the past two weeks, you’ve been here. It doesn’t matter if I’m practicing with the team, or by myself. You’re always around the rink. I was starting to question if you lived here or not until now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! As always, thank you so much for the support!
> 
> Quick reminder that I’m going off more of their characters in the Dream SMP then anything, but some of it is just kinda my take on their characters in this au. 
> 
> Also, I probably won’t be using last names because I tried to put George’s last name and it just felt really weird. It made it feel like it was less about their characters, and I don’t want that.

“How could it have gotten worse in the span of two weeks?”

“It’s awful! They take up all the time on the ice. I never get any time where it’s just me anymore. I can’t even do a full run through without nearly getting mistaken as a player.”

Karl sat down on the edge of George’s bed. “I hate to say it, but maybe you should just get over it? I mean, you’ll get your time again after the season’s over.”

“Says the one who has a gym all to themselves every practice,” he shot back, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Okay, fair enough,” Karl conceded. “But I don’t understand why you’re so worked up about this.”

“Because they’re hockey players. Loud, obnoxious, rude hockey players. They’re like the football players of the ice.”

“What’s wrong with football players,” Karl asked, an almost defensive tone to his voice.

“Oh calm down, you’re not dating him yet. You don’t have to defend him.”

George could practically hear Karl’s blush. “Anyway,” he pressed. “I think you’re being too judgemental. They’re not hurting you, are they?”

“No,” George said, removing his arm from over his eyes. He lay sprawled across his creaky bed, as if he were in a psychiatrist’s office. “But I know how they are, and they’re awful.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t just one team?”

“I’m sure.”

Karl sighed and got to his feet. “Whatever, I’m not arguing with you. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” he called back, but Karl didn’t reply. The fight was over, but he was still determined to win.

\-----------

“You need to call them back,” Karl reminded him for the third time during their study session.

George shrugged, not looking up from his textbook. “I’m busy.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t busy when they called you twenty minutes ago.”

“Well, I was about to be busy. Besides, I would rather not be the asshole that gets on a call in the library.”

“Why are you even ignoring them,” Quackity asked as he wadded up a piece of paper and threw it into the air. He caught it and threw it up again, a steady rhythm to it, something for George to focus on that wasn’t the missed calls from his parents. “I get that you’re annoyed with them or whatever, but you’re only making things worse.”

George watched carefully as the paper fell into Quackity’s hand. “I just don’t feel like getting reprimanded again. Can you blame me?”

Karl shared a look with Quackity. He hugged his arms close to his chest, squirming in his chair. “No,” he sighed. “But what are you gonna do? Ignore them for the rest of your life?”

George hated that he contemplated it. His parents weren’t bad people, they just didn’t think that the path he had chosen was smart, and sometimes the lack of support could be surprisingly overwhelming.

Karl must’ve noticed his debacle, because he picked up George’s phone and clicked on the last notification. Panicked, George reached across the table, but Karl was quicker. He dodged his hand, ignoring George’s rushed curses and threats.

“Hi, is this George’s mom? This is Karl, George’s roommate. I just wanted to tell you that-”

He tried to give him the best pleading look, because how could he explain it to them now? How could he tell them that he’s been ignoring their calls because it’s too much work to talk to them? Because even when he tries to talk about something else, his career choice always comes up and the conversation always ends the same way?

Karl closed his mouth. He stared at George for a few moments, as if contemplating what to do. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, and said, “I just wanted to tell you that George isn’t picking up his phone because he went to study with a friend and forgot his phone. I saw that you had been calling and I didn’t want you to worry.”

There were a few more words exchanged before Karl finally said goodbye and hung up. George took his phone back, grabbing it out of Karl’s hand, and if that upset him his friend didn’t show it. “Really appreciate that Karl, thanks,” George said, not bothering to mask his anger.

“I’m sorry. I just thought that-”

“And you wonder why no one tells you things. You’re always in everyone’s business,” George shot back as he grabbed his backpack and shoved his papers into the bag.

Quackity, who had grown strangely silent during the events, shook his head. “George, that’s not fair. He’s just trying to help. Don’t act like you haven’t done the same.”

“Shut up Quackity, okay? I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“What is wrong with you?” Karl asked. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, looking at George like he had grown three heads. “Why are you so uptight all of a sudden? I know you’ve got a lot going on, but that doesn’t mean that you can just be a dick to everyone.”

George scoffed under his breath. “Whatever. Have fun with your study, but I’ve got practice.”

“You always do,” Karl mumbled under his breath, but George ignored him and left the library.

When he got to the familiar rink, there were only a few skaters still around. George knew that they would probably clear out before it closed, which made him feel a bit better.

George stepped onto the ice and immediately took off. He didn’t bother warming up or going through his routine, too many emotions running through him to be able to. Instead, he made laps around and around, passing kids and adults who struggled on their skates and some who had stopped to take pictures. 

It didn’t help calm him down, didn’t help ease his mind, but only made him angrier. He moved faster without realizing, pushing himself until everything seemed to be a blur. He just needed to move. He just needed to-

Before he knew it his skate got caught and he went tumbling to the ground. George knew that it wouldn’t be smart to put out his hands, because the last thing he needed was a broken wrist. So he just let himself fall on his right knee and then onto his side. When he managed to slow down, George sat up and pushed himself up against the wall so that he wouldn’t get run over.

George rolled up his pant leg to examine the damage, letting out a hissing noise when he saw his already bruising knee. How stupid could he be? How could he let himself get hurt like that? If he had landed harder he could’ve fractured it, or worse. 

“I saw you wipe out, are you- shit, your knee.”

George knew that voice immediately. Dream’s green eyes watched him carefully, a look of concern crossing his features. Dream offered his hand, but George grabbed the wall and pulled himself up, wincing. “I don’t need your help.”

Dream glanced down at his knee again. “It’s swelling. I don’t think you should be skating on that.”

“No shit,” he snapped, but Dream didn’t react. 

“I can get you some ice,” he offered. “I know that you probably know where it is, but you probably should just stay still for a bit and sit down.”

“No, I’ll go with you. Might as well walk it off.”

Dream looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t question it. The taller man wrapped an arm around George and helped him off the ice, and as much as George wanted to pull away, he knew that he would just end up getting stuck on the ice without him.

George took off his skates and put on his shoes as he waited outside on a bench for Dream. It was cold for the beginning of October, a cold that seemed to loom over you like a ghost. George felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, singing that same sweet tune that he had grown to hate. He fished it out to find his mother calling again. 

George sighed. Karl was right. He couldn’t ignore them forever.

George pressed accept. “Hey mum. What are you doing up so late?”

“I just wanted to check in and make sure that you were doing alright. Your friend Karl picked up my call earlier and told me you were out. Said you were studying with someone?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, my friend Quackity,” he said, rubbing at his eyes.

“Oh… I didn’t realize that you were still involved with that boy.”

George straightened his back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she replied quickly, her voice turning abnormally shrill. “It’s just that he never seemed like a good influence on you is all.”

“You never even met him.”

“Well, it’s just from what I’ve gathered over the years. Please do not take it by offense, George. I didn’t mean it in that way.”

Yes you did, he thought, but did not say, knowing that it wouldn’t change her mind.

There was a beat, a silence that seemed to stretch on for hours. “Well,” she coughed awkwardly. “Anything new?”

“Not really, mum. Practice, school, friends. Nothing really ever changes with me.” He leaned back against the wall, letting his head rest against the cool brick. 

“How’s practice then,” she asked, but there was a new tone to her voice, a sort of tightness. “Anything new with that?”

“Nope. Same routine, same schedule.”

“Doesn’t that ever get boring? Doing the same thing over and over? It must be tiring.”

George tried not to roll his eyes. “No, it actually doesn’t.”

She paused. “Oh… well.”

“Look mum, it’s late for you and for me. Can we continue this another time?”

“I see,” she said. “I just wanted to talk to you, George. Sometimes I feel like you don’t even hear us anymore.”

“Believe me, I hear you.” He wondered if she was sitting at the kitchen table. Would she sit there without his dad? “Goodnight mum.”

He hung up before she could return it. George sighed, burying his head in his hands. His head was pounding, but he didn’t remember hitting his head when he fell. Maybe the bright lights in the building had just given him a headache.

“Sorry it took so long. They couldn’t find any bags.” Dream handed him the ice pack, and he didn’t get mad when George didn’t thank him. “You were going pretty fast in there. Something on your mind?”

“Just got too excited. Adrenaline rush I guess,” he lied, attempting not to wince when the ice pack made contact with his swollen skin. He could feel those piercing green eyes on him, as if they were digging into him, desperately searching for a chink in his armor. “Do you mind?”

Dream looked confused for a moment, but then he quickly looked away. George watched as his eyes scanned the cars, his eyebrows pinched closely together. George could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Do you not have a ride,” Dream asked.

“No, I walked here,” he answered, gritting his teeth.

Dream risked a glance at his knee. “You probably shouldn’t walk. I could drive you.”

“I could call someone,” George countered, but even he questioned that statement. Bad was probably driving back from his visit with his parents now, and Quackity and Karl were probably mad at him from earlier. 

“Are you sure?”

George sighed. Was he seriously doing this? “No… Do you mind?”

Dream smiled and George felt like punching a hole through a wall. “Let’s go ahead and go then. It’s already pretty dark already.”

So George followed Dream to his beaten up car and got into the passenger's seat, not believing what he had just gotten himself into. George told Dream his address, and as soon as they were pulling out of the parking lot he rested his forehead against the cool glass window, letting his eyes fall closed.

“You’re always here,” Dream said softly, startling him.

“What do you mean,” George asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Every time I’ve come into practice for the past two weeks, you’ve been here. It doesn’t matter if I’m practicing with the team, or by myself. You’re always around the rink. I was starting to question if you lived here or not until now.”

George knew that he was trying to make it lighthearted, but to him it was just uncomfortable. George shrugged. “I’m here on a scholarship for figure skating. Don’t really want that taken away from me.”

“I’m here on a scholarship for hockey, but I do have a life outside the games.”

George looked over at him. “Are you saying that I don’t?”

“No, God, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that you push yourself really hard.”

George crossed his ankles, afraid to put too much pressure on his knee if he crossed his legs instead. “I work hard. I always have, and I always will. You barely know me, Dream, so I don’t really know if this is any of your business.”

Dream laughed. “Says the one that’s sitting in my car.”

“You were the one that was so adamant about it,” he snapped.

“Yeah, but I sort of expected you to fight back more. You’re just always so stubborn, I was a bit surprised when you didn’t.”

“If you want me to get out, then just say it.”

Dream looked at him a bit shocked. “Jesus George, we’re in a moving vehicle. Keep your seatbelt on and stay the hell in the car before I have to child lock the doors.”

George leaned against the window, turning away from the hockey player once again. “I don’t really wanna talk anymore,” he grumbled, putting an end to the conversation.

George got out of the car, quietly thanking him before he headed into his apartment and to his room. He flopped onto his bed, hugging his pillow tightly to him. His head was pounding and his knee hurt, and all he could think about was that stupid kitchen table and chairs back in England.

“George,” Karl’s voice called quietly from his doorway.

George closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, because the idea of talking to Karl about earlier was exhausting in itself. Before he knew it, there was a blanket pulled over him and the lights had been turned off, and just those small gestures that reminded him of Karl’s kind heart made George feel horrible for everything he had said before.

George lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. There was something that was different than the silence that had settled over Dream’s car earlier, when it was just the two of them and nothing but the road ahead. Now it was just him and the darkness, and the silence that followed was deafening.


	4. An Optimistic Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know something’s wrong, but you don’t want to tell anybody because you’re too scared to.”
> 
> “That’s a pretty big observation, Bad,” George remarked. “Maybe you should be a therapist.”
> 
> “Nah. There’s only so many bottled up emotions I can handle in a day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are seriously the best. I looked today and I have about a thousand hits and around 100 kudos with only four chapters posted. That is insane! Thank you all so much!
> 
> This chapter was really sweet, and I honestly enjoyed writing it. I have no idea what I’m gonna do for the next chapter, but I guess we’ll see!

He messed up. Oh God he messed up.

He slept through his test, and when he went to ask the professor if there was any way he could make it up, they refused. “I’m sorry, but it’s your responsibility to keep up with your classes.”

He couldn’t believe it. He had stayed on top of his grades for so long. How had he managed to miss one of his biggest tests so far? What if his parents found out? God, then he would really never hear the end of it.

“George?”

George looked up to see Bad standing in front of him, looking confused and a bit concerned. “You look upset.”

“I guess I am,” he admitted, because what was the point in lying to Bad? He was still tired and his knee was still hurting, and he wasn’t sure if it was a smart idea to go skating despite how badly he wanted to. 

Bad frowned. “Bad day,” he guessed, cocking his head slightly to the side.

George laughed lightly. “Yeah, it’s been pretty awful.”

Bad thought for a moment, then he offered a smile, wrapped an arm around George’s shoulders and said, “I was planning on going to a drive in tonight with Skeppy. Maybe that’ll help you get your mind off of things.”

“Yeah, seeing you two hanging all over each other the whole movie is a perfect distraction,” he teased.

“I promise it won’t be like that. Besides, it’s Toy Story. Who doesn’t like Toy Story?”

George couldn’t help but smile. Bad, always the positive one. What would he do without him? “Okay. I’ll watch Toy Story with you all.”

Bad smiled widely. “Awesome! The movie’s at eight, so we can pick you up before?”

“Yeah, that works for me.”

\----------

“Never would’ve thought I would see Skeppy driving a pickup truck,” George commented as they climbed into the bed of the trunk.

“It was a friend of mine’s and he was selling it for cheap,” Skeppy explained as he helped Bad spread out the blankets and pillows. “Besides, it’s perfect for things like this.”

“Yeah, I guess,” George shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, resting his back against the truck.

Bad crawled over and sat down next to him. He glanced down at George’s bandaged knee that he had propped up on one of their pillows. George quickly covered his legs with a fuzzy blanket. He knew that he should’ve worn pants instead of shorts. Of course Bad would be concerned.

“Bad practice,” Bad asked, offering him a bag of gummy bears.

George took it, but he had no appetite. “Yeah. Fell on it pretty hard, but the swelling went down a bit so I should be fine to go back to practice soon.”

Bad looked a little worried, which made George squirm in his seat. Sometimes it was hard looking Bad in the eye, especially when he was worried. It reminded him of his parent’s looks when they knew that he was lying.

“I don’t know if you should be going back so soon,” Bad warned, taking Skeppy’s popcorn and popping a few pieces into his mouth. “You could make it worse. Don’t want to be out for the season.”

George felt like he had been slapped. That reminder was like an alarm ringing in his head that he couldn’t seem to turn off. That alarm stayed on all day, all night, through practices, through competitions, through tests and when he was trying to study.

His dad’s voice rang through his head, “You’re only going to hurt yourself. The last thing you need is to get sent home from school because of a hobby.”

“George?” Bad shook his shoulder, bringing him back into the present. His friend was looking at him with those same concerned eyes and he fought the urge to look away. “Did I say something?”

Sort of, he thought, but he couldn’t blame Bad for his problems. “No, I was just thinking. You’re probably right. I’ll take a break.” He tried to offer a smile, but it came out all wrong. Bad just gave him a sad smile in return.

Skeppy shushed them. “It’s starting.”

He watched scene after scene play out, but he couldn’t seem to focus. All he could think about was how loud the movie was playing, and how his phone might ring any second with another call from his mother, or what his parents would say if he was failing a grade that he should’ve been passing with flying colors.

He thought of Karl turning off his lights for him last night and how despite their fight, Karl always managed to be the bigger person. He thought of how he had teased him about Sapnap and told him that he couldn’t keep secrets. Karl probably didn’t even want to talk to him anymore, and could George blame him? Karl would move on and make new friends, and he would be left alone.

Bad nudged his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “You wanna go with me to the concession stand?”

George let Bad help him out of the truck, Bad practically dragging him over to the concession stand. Then they passed the stand and he was led over to the edge of the forest. “Bad, what are you-”

“Sit down,” Bad said, and to George’s surprise there was a sort of commanding tone to it. His normally gentle voice had retreated momentarily, reminding him of the side of Bad that he didn’t really like to show. The side that he had stashed away, something that George was too familiar with.

George sat in the grass. “What about Skeppy?”

Bad sat down across from him, his legs crossed. “We can just tell him the line was long,” he said with a shrug. George felt his heartbeat quicken. Bad never lied to Skeppy. And it wasn’t just that, but he wouldn’t look away from George. He just kept watching him with those intense, dark eyes of his. 

“But we’re not at the concession stand,” he said, averting his gaze from Bad’s eyes, but they seemed to follow him. “Would you stop that?”

“Stop what,” Bad asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Would you stop staring at me like that? It’s fucking creepy.”

“Language,” Bad said, and whereas he normally would’ve laughed and teased his friend, he found himself closing his mouth. Bad sighed and looked into the forest. “I know something’s wrong, but you don’t want to tell anybody because you’re too scared to.”

“That’s a pretty big observation, Bad,” George remarked. “Maybe you should be a therapist.”

“Nah. There’s only so many bottled up emotions I can handle in a day.” George’s cheeks reddened. Bad glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You can talk to me George. I won’t tell.”

George knew he wouldn’t, but a voice in the back of his head kept telling him otherwise. Either way, he knew he didn’t have a choice. Bad was a master at the waiting game, and George could only take those eyes for so long.

He buried his head in his hands, mumbling, “I screwed up. I screwed up so badly.”

And he found himself telling his friend everything, starting from the trip to Denny’s. He told him about teasing Karl about Sapnap for the past two weeks, his fight with him and Quackity in the library, and then the story of how he hurt his knee. He excluded Dream because that was a whole story in itself, but he did explain how he couldn’t seem to sleep last night, because no matter how hard he tried the silence seemed to overrule every other noise.

Bad nodded to himself as he took in George’s words. Then he shrugged. “Talk to him.”

George stared for a moment, but then he found himself laughing. “You made me explain all of that just so you could tell me to talk to him? I could’ve figured that out myself.”

“Sometimes you have to put your trust in others to be able to help yourself.”

George paused for a moment. Finally, he met Bad’s eyes. “Talk to him?”

Bad nodded. “Talk to him. Karl’s a forgiving guy. Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

George nodded back. “Okay. Okay. Thanks Bad.”

He smiled, and suddenly his cheerful tone had returned. “Anytime! Come on, let’s get out of the grass. I’d actually like to finish this movie.”

When the two of them crawled back into the bed of Skeppy’s truck, he asked, “Where have you two been?”

George shrugged and simply said, “The line was really long.”

\----------

George stood outside his apartment door for a long time, attempting to muster the courage to walk inside. He knew that he had to talk to his friend, but why was he so nervous? This was Karl he was talking about. He would probably accept his apology and they would move on.

Maybe he could talk to him tomorrow. They could go to Denny’s and talk. George could just say that he had a headache and didn’t want to talk tonight. Maybe it would be better. Maybe…

“You’ll never talk to him if you don’t do it now,” George reminded himself. Some kids stared at him as they walked past, but he rolled his eyes and ignored them. “Come on. Just open the door.”

He finally mustered up the courage and walked inside, but instead of being greeted with his roommate he was instead greeted with an empty apartment. George wandered around, feeling strangely lost.

“Karl?” He said, but there was no reply.

George fished out his phone and texted Quackity:

Gogy: Have you seen Karl? Kinda need to talk to him

Big Q: Yeah, we’re at a party. Sapnap’s fraternity. Y?

Gogy: Nothing. I’ll be there in a minute

George didn’t think that this was how his night would turn out, but he decided to just go with it. Karl wasn’t much of a drinker, right? Was he? George hadn’t really been to many parties with Karl. Then again, he hadn’t really been to many parties in general.

“Get it over with,” he reminded himself before he shut the door behind him and made his way down the hall.


	5. Red Solo Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You aren’t a bad person, Georgie,” Karl mumbled, making George blush. He never called him that, at least not when it wasn’t a joke. “You just have a hard time warming up to people, and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s just hard to tell whether you actually like us or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it’s been awhile, I was having some writer’s block, but I’m so happy to be back! 
> 
> TW FOR THIS CHAPTER: Alcohol, drugs and smoking, addiction mention, mentioned injuries and fight

George pushed himself past the crowd standing in the doorway. The fraternity house was packed and he could barely move through the thick sea of drunken college students. There was music blaring from a speaker somewhere in the living room and the smell of smoke quickly filled his nostrils, making him cough. He didn’t realize he was going to be reminded this quickly of why he didn't like going to parties, but yet here he was.

Slowly, he made his way towards the living room where most of the action was happening. George averted his gaze from the mess that was the dance floor, which mainly consisted of drunken swaying and some rather confident dance moves to say the least.

George considered leaving again, but as he was heading towards the door he spotted a rather colorful hoodie that ducked into the kitchen. He pushed the door open with his elbow, mumbling a quick apology to a kid that looked a bit too young to be at the party, for stepping on his shoe. The kitchen was a lot quieter and less crowded. There were red solo cups lined up across the counter, and George couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor sucker who had to clean the mess up tomorrow.

“Karl,” George called as he neared the man in the colored hoodie, but it didn’t take long for George to realize that that was not his roommate. His shoulders were too broad now that he got a closer look and his laugh was different. He tilted his head back as he guffawed at his friend’s joke, revealing a shadow of a familiar face.

“Sapnap,” George said, staring at him with eyes he knew were too wide with shock. The football player turned to him and smiled when he caught sight of George. 

He swayed slightly on his feet as he walked towards him and practically crushed George in a hug. “Hey, you’re Quackity’s friend,” he exclaimed, and George couldn’t help but flinch at the sound. “I saw you at Denny’s a few weeks ago.”

George pulled away from Sapnap’s embrace as soon as he loosened his grip. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Yep. That’s me,” he laughed awkwardly. He’d never wanted to slap himself so badly in his life. What was he doing talking to this guy? He was supposed to be looking for Karl, not talking to a football player.

Sapnap leaned against the counter, running a hand roughly through his hair. “What’s your name again? Sorry, I can’t remember.”

But before he could answer, Sapnap’s friend answered. “His name’s George.”

He startled slightly. He hadn’t even noticed Dream in his black hoodie, solo cup in hand. Seriously, how had he managed to miss him? He looked like a giant in the low ceilinged kitchen. Dream offered a smile, waving in that all-fingers-flapping sort of way. “Hi George.”

George quickly looked down at his shoes. “Hi Dream.”

Sapnap looked between the two of them, back and forth, and George could practically smell the smoke as his alcohol infected mind worked to turn the gears in his head. After a couple of rounds his gaze finally landed on Dream. “You two know each other?”

This time George responded before Dream could get a chance. “No,” he blurted out, his cheeks blossoming red at the twin looks of confusion on the boy’s faces. “He doesn’t know me.”

“We practice at the same ice rink,” Dream explained. “Otherwise we haven’t really talked.”

“Funny how that hasn’t happened, huh,” George commented, putting on a smile that was obviously too forced. Dream’s eyebrows furrowed even further in confusion and George almost laughed at the ridiculous look.

“Right, um,” Sapnap coughed awkwardly. “I should probably get back out there. I would rather not be a bad host.”

George didn’t think that frat parties had an official ‘host’, at least not the ones he was used to. He just remembered his mum hosting dinner parties for friends and family and passing around drinks and little sandwiches. The thought of the football team running around offering sandwiches to drunk students almost made him laugh.

“Hey Sapnap,” George called before the man got out of earshot. Sapnap spun back around, eyebrows raised. “Have you seen Karl lately?”

He thought for a minute. “No, last time I saw him was when he was with Quackity. I can go find him if you need though.”

George nodded thankfully. Sapnap gave him a thumbs up and disappeared into the crowd. George leaned against the pantry door as he processed everything that was happening. He was at a party and he was gonna find Karl and talk to him. Why was he so anxious? Karl was fine and so was he, so why did he feel like his heart was slowly getting crushed?

“You don’t know me.” George startled at the sound of Dream’s deep voice. There was a hint of a smile hiding behind the red solo cup raised to his lips, one that only made his heart feel more suffocated. Dream didn’t seem as unfocused (to say the least) as Sapnap had been, but George couldn’t deny that he looked like he was having fun. “Since when do you not know me?”

“Because I don’t,” George answered simply, gripping the collar of his shirt tightly in his hand.

Dream laughed breathily. “You rode in my car.”

“Yeah, because I knew you weren’t gonna let me walk home. I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“I never said I wasn’t gonna let you ride in my car,” Dream countered, placing his cup among the others. “You’re just assuming things like you always do.”

Dream had this tone that was so patient that he couldn’t possibly be upset with him, and George hated it with every fiber of his being. “Excuse me?”

Dream shrugged as if he didn’t know why he said it, but his eyes gave him a look that made it seem as if his statement were obvious. “Yeah. Every time I’ve tried to talk to you for the past few weeks you’ve assumed something about me. When I asked you why you were always at the rink you assumed that I didn’t think you had a life, when I asked you why you decided to come to America you assumed I didn't want you here. Hell, when I asked what skates you used you thought I was mocking you.”

He was playing it off as a joke, but the longer he went on the more George’s heart constricted and his breath seemed to be swept out from beneath him. “You’re meaner when you’re not sober,” George commented, his voice coming out tight and distant.

“You’re always mean.”

George felt like he had been shot. He hated it. Why was he letting this guy say these things to him? He stood there with his punchable smile, his green eyes seeming to pierce his skin, and it made his blood boil.

“Not like you don’t give me reason to,” he said, but he could barely hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears. 

Dream’s smile quickly faded and his eyes seem to clear. “Wait George, that’s not what I meant,” he began, reaching out to grab George’s wrist, but he quickly pulled away.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna go see if Sapnap found Karl.” Then he walked off, leaving Dream standing alone.

George attempted to make his way towards the stairs, but arms and legs kept bumping him this way and that and it was almost as if he were stumbling blind. His ears were still ringing and his heart ached with how fast it was beating. He had felt feelings similar to this on the ice, but this wasn’t the same. Something was off. He felt… colder. 

That’s when he realized he couldn’t breathe. In a panic, George stumbled towards the back door, wrenching it open and practically throwing himself outside. He felt ridiculous as he took deep breaths, slumped against the brick wall, but at this point he had given up on caring. Parties were stupid anyway.

“Hey man,” a voice said from somewhere to his right. He turned his head to see a man with a tan that seemed a bit too orange to be real staring at him. “You okay? You made a scene.”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he managed to say. He used the wall as a guide to help him up. George joined the other. His eyes were bloodshot, George noticed, and the smell that hit him when he had walked through the door that night quickly enveloped his senses once again. “You can chill with my friends for a minute. Might do you some good to relax.”

George didn’t know why he followed the man when he was already struggling not to gag from the stench, but he did anyway. He was led to the side of the house where a small group sat in the grass. They all had matching red eyes, some worse than others, but one pair in particular caught his eyes.

“Quackity, what the hell are you doing?”

The boy looked up at him, his relaxed smile quickly fading. All at once he seemed to realize where he was and what he was doing. He looked down at the joint in his hand, as if just noticing it were there. “George, don’t freak out.”

George almost laughed. “Don’t tell me not to freak out. You said you weren’t doing this kind of stuff anymore.”

“Let me explain myself first,” he said, but George didn’t want to listen. He thought back to sophomore year when the red tinge never seemed to leave his eyes, when he would come asking them for money, when his grades began to slip and he started to lose himself.

“George! George are you out here,” Sapnap’s voice boomed. He heard a giggle that followed, one that he knew too well.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he told Quackity. 

The two boys stood in the doorway, Sapnap leaning against the doorframe and Karl was practically draped across the other. His eyes were unfocused and a ridiculous smile was plastered across his face, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to stop giggling.

“I found him,” Sapnap announced proudly, which only made Karl laugh harder. 

He poked Sapnap’s cheek, slurring, “You found me!”

George would’ve rolled his eyes if he weren’t so shocked by the state of his roommate. He hardly ever saw Karl drink, so seeing him so… happy, was a little mind blowing.

“Come on, Karl. We’re going home.” George wrapped an arm around Karl’s waist, the cheerleader swaying unsteadily on his feet.

“What? Why,” he pouted.

“Because this party sucks and I don’t want to carry you home.”

Karl frowned for a moment longer, but then his sloppy smile returned and he poked George’s nose. “Whatever you say!”

“Alright, say bye to Sapnap.”

“Bye Sappynappy,” he giggled, waving like he was directing an airplane. Sapnap just laughed and waved back as he thanked them for coming. As much as he hated to admit it, George couldn’t dislike the football player. Even when drunk he managed to be nice.

“I like him. He’s sweet,” Karl said as they made their way slowly to the sidewalk.

“Too bad you probably won’t remember any of it in the morning,” George mumbled to himself, and Karl just laughed to himself, because apparently the idea of a hangover in the morning was hilarious to drunk him.

\----------

The walk was tedious and George had nearly ripped his hair out several times, but they managed to make it home. George helped Karl out of his shoes and socks and into bed, very thankful that his roommate was already wearing comfortable clothes.

George put a small trash can next to Karl’s bed and made sure to put aspirin and water bottles on his bedside table. He made him drink plenty of water because he did not want to be the cause of Karl getting dehydrated. Besides, Karl had helped him out enough when he had been sick in the past. The least he could do was return the favor.

“If you need me just call, alright? You know where my room is if anything happens,” George said softly, to which Karl nodded and hummed an ‘mhm.’ 

George turned towards the door, but Karl mumbled, “George?”

He turned back towards his friend. Karl was bundled up in the blankets, the creaky excuse for a bedframe they both had protesting with each small movement. He couldn’t deny that the bed looked really comfortable to him right now, his body screaming at him to close his eyes, but there were other things he had to do. He could worry about himself later. “Yeah, what’s wrong?”

Karl made a noise that sounded somewhere in between a whine and a grunt. George rolled his eyes. “English, Karl. I don’t know what ‘ergh’ means.” Instead, Karl patted the mattress, giving him an expectant look. George sighed, shaking his head. There were so many things to do and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to talk to Karl about anything serious when he was like this, but he found himself taking a seat on the bed anyway.

“You went to the party,” Karl said, his words rather heavy and still slurred. 

George nodded. “I went to the party.”

Karl hummed, nodding slowly along with him. His eyes were barely open and part of George hoped that he would just fall asleep so that he could leave. “Sapnap said you were talking to Dream.”

George shot him a confused look. “How do you know Dream?”

Karl giggled as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “I get around. I talk to people other than you guys and the cheerleaders.” He could see Karl watching him out of the corner of his eyes and it made George shift slightly. “Unlike you, who only really talks to us.”

George’s cheeks reddened. “What? I do not,” he stuttered, averting his gaze to a spot on Karl’s colorful comforters.

Karl laughed loudly. “Bullshit. Sap said that Dream’s really confused by you. You’re so… what’d he say? Defensive?”

“I’m not,” he snapped, his heart racing. “Dream talked to Sapnap about me?”

Karl nodded slowly. “Mhm. Said he wants to talk to ya, but he never can. You’re always snapping at him.”

George’s gut twisted. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to talk about Dream with a drunk Karl and he certainly did not want to talk about Dream’s feelings towards him at all. Why should he care? Apparently he was mean in Dream’s eyes anyway.

Karl poked George’s leg. “But hey, you always were like that.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Ya know, you’re just always on your toes. Even when I first met you you didn’t really like me. Or at least I didn’t think you did because you were always snapping at me.”

George blushed. “Did you really think that?”

“Mhm,” he yawned, hugging the comforters close to him. 

“Get some rest,” George said, pulling the covers over him and ruffling his hair before standing and heading towards the door.

“You aren’t a bad person, Georgie,” Karl mumbled, making George blush. He never called him that, at least not when it wasn’t a joke. “You just have a hard time warming up to people, and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s just hard to tell whether you actually like us or not.”

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “I do like you guys,” he admitted, and he didn’t realize how much it hurt to hear Karl say these things until he had already said them.

“I know ya do,” he answered. “It’s just weird ‘cause we’ve known each other for two or three years now, and you’ve never really opened up to us ‘bout anything. I didn’t find out about your parents until I accidentally heard your phone call with them.”

George’s face grew redder. He had panicked that night, because what if Karl judged him for it? He remembered yelling at Karl and slamming the door, burying himself in his room where no one could hear his cries and panicked breaths. 

Karl continued, “I know you’re not one to immediately open up, but we’re your friends. You have to let us in.”

George’s heart stuttered in his chest, a red warning label flashing behind his eyes screaming, ‘Danger! Run away!’ 

“Goodnight Karl,” he said, then shut the door behind him. George took a deep breath, Karl’s words running circles in his head. He was so tired and so overwhelmed, because did he mean all of that or were they just drunken words? Were they real feelings or just a joke?

He picked up his phone, glancing at the brightened screen in their dark living room. It was late, way too late for him to be standing around and not working on something, but the picture of him and his friends at the big football game last year seemed to tell him otherwise. Instead, he found himself opening his messages.

Gogy: Can we talk if you’re not still at the party?

Big Q: Not really sober probably shouldn’t talk tonight

Gogy: I don’t care

There was a moment of silence as Quackity responded, and George contemplated why he was doing this. He knew he should be doing homework or studying, maybe even running through his routine, but yet he was texting Quackity. Then his phone buzzed with a new text.

Big Q: Come to my place. Fundy and Sam aren’t here.

Ten minutes later he was knocking on Big Q’s door. When he answered his eyes were still tinged slightly red and there was a faint smile on his face, but he seemed sober enough so George didn’t really care.

He stepped to the side, gesturing towards their messy living room. “Step into my office.”

George rolled his eyes and walked in, practically throwing himself onto the couch. He buried his head in his hands, trying not to focus on his aching feet from the walk and the pounding headache that had decided to worm it’s way into his skull.

“How’s Karl?” Quackity asked, plopping down next to him. He turned on the tv, but he must’ve noticed George’s flinch because he quickly turned the volume down.

George laughed lightly. “Let’s just pray he doesn’t have practice tomorrow. It’s gonna be a rough morning for him.”

Quackity nodded slowly, and they quickly lapsed into a silence that seemed far from comfortable. The only light came from the glow of the tv and every small noise seemed to echo through the room, setting George’s nerves on high alert.

“So,” Quackity prompted when the silence became unbearable. “What brings you here?”

“Can we not do all of this fake stuff?” George asked. “You know why I’m here.”

Quackity’s faint smile from before quickly faded. He bit the inside of his cheek, a habit of his that George had caught onto over the years. Quackity sighed and adjusted his beanie. “Long story,” he said heavily.

“I have time,” George shrugged, leaning back into the couch cushions. 

Quackity laughed, but it sounded more sarcastic than genuine. His smile faded again, and he was left silent, staring at a spot on the floor as if he wasn’t in the room, but somewhere entirely different. “You know… the accident this summer.”

George was well aware. Quackity had gotten into a pretty bad fight with a kid he shouldn’t have been involved with. He didn’t know what it was over or who it was with, all he knew was that it had left him in the hospital with broken bones and a nasty scar that had blinded him in one eye.

George swallowed, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I remember.”

Quackity huffed an emotionless laugh. “Yeah, kinda hard to forget.” He gestured towards his injured eye. The brown hue was slightly dull now, as if it had been drained of color. “I don’t know, it just became a lot. I got really paranoid about who I was friends with, I had to learn how to do everything differently… To be honest, I kinda lost it.”

Quackity looked down at his lap. There was a tone to his voice, sad, almost like he was mourning. “I didn’t want to do it,” he continued. “I knew you all would kill me after the way it affected me last time… I just felt like if I didn’t do something to calm myself down I would actually lose it.”

George frowned. Quackity wasn’t one of those people who could just smoke to calm down and then be okay afterwards. He got hooked onto other drugs, things that he definitely shouldn’t have, and it had nearly destroyed him.

Quackity looked up at him, and George didn’t know if he’d ever seen Quackity so… disappointed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you all,” he said softly.

George wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “It’s okay. We’ll help you if you need it, alright? We did it last time, we can do it again.”

He nodded, and he didn’t joke or pull away from George’s grasp because he knew that affection from George wasn’t exactly plentiful. They took what they could get out of him, and no one ever complained.

“Quackity, can I ask you something?” George asked. The other nodded, looking at him expectantly. “Did you think I didn’t like you when I first met you?”

Quackity sighed and pinched his temples, as if George’s headache had suddenly transferred to him. “To be honest, yeah. You’re not easy to talk to.”

“Oh.” How was he supposed to respond to that? It felt like a slap to the face and a punch to the gut all at once. He closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to subdue the pounding against his skull. “Karl said that I don’t open up.”

Quackity laughed, and it wasn’t sarcastic or emotionless this time, but full and filled with life. He was back to normal, George thought, not sad and distant. It helped ease his mind. At least he wouldn’t have to comfort him anymore.

But to his shock the other agreed, “He’s right.”

George felt a blush creep up his neck and into his cheeks. “Then why are you laughing?”

He shrugged, a smile still on his face. “I don’t know, okay? It’s just funny that you have to ask whether you don’t open up or not. I thought you would be able to tell.”

George pulled his legs close to his chest and removed his arm from around the other’s shoulders. “No, I guess I couldn’t tell.”

“Don’t do that, George. Don’t close yourself off. You’re only making this worse for yourself.” Quackity adjusted his beanie, watching him as if he would explode at any second. “Don’t give me that look. I’m just saying that you can trust us. I understand it’s hard, but don’t keep everything in. Look where that got me.”

“Okay…”

They lapsed back into silence, one that was possibly more uncomfortable than the last. He knew that he probably should’ve been attempting to ease the tension, but he simply didn’t have the energy. Quackity didn’t say anything either, so there was no point in trying.

Finally, he said, “You can take the couch. You shouldn’t be walking home this late.”

“What about Karl,” George asked as Quackity went to get him a pillow and a blanket. 

The pillow was about as comfortable as it would be to sleep without one, and the blanket was held together by mere threads, but he kept his mouth shut because the thought of walking home in the dark was worse. 

“He’ll be fine. If anything I can check on him tomorrow,” Quackity offered.

George snorted. “That sounds sort of like the blind leading the blind.”

He lightly slapped George’s arm, laughing lightly. “Shut up and go to sleep already before I send your ass to the curb.” Although he was joking, George laid down with his back facing the tv. He heard footsteps and he thought that Quackity might’ve gone to his room, but then he said in the softest voice George might’ve ever heard him speak in, “Seriously though. You can talk to me.”

Quackity’s footsteps echoed down the short hall, and he was left in a silence that didn’t seem so bad anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this longer chapter. As always, thank you guys for the support! I hope you liked the addition of the Quackity scar. I love the concept of it in the lore so I wanted to add it here too.


End file.
